Minutes
by Brain and Eggs
Summary: Some minutes mean nothing. Some minutes mean everything. Warning story contains physical assault.
1. Chapter 1

He tilted his head back and with practiced ease he tossed back his Jack. Usually he rathered to keep fine twenty year old malt, however tonight he needed the strength and cheapness that he felt on his tongue after another argument, which had escalated into screaming. Well the volume level would only be described as slightly above the soft lethal tongue of his silver haired wife.

Out of the corner of his eyes he heard the door close shut, signalling the delivery of the bloody book that was the main focus of every single moment. Every moment from when she woke up. It was the very air she breathed, more than being his wife. Unless it was the love she had for her daughters.

He sighed and tried to calm down his pulse, being wound up after another stand up at Pastis. He proceeded to pour another scotch, when Patricia suddenly stood from the corner of the room. Keen and alert.

"It's okay girl. It's not you that she's pissed off at."

Patricia whined before her ears appeared to be pricked, listening for some unknown sound.

Probably the cat being let out from next door, the little ginger ball insisted on teasing Patricia through the French doors.

Then a scream pierced his ears.

He dropped the scotch and ran to the foyer, hearing the heels of Miranda moving down the stairs. Patricia bounded alongside him; as he threw open the doors. Before his eyes fell on a lone finger on the opposite side of the street. He ran over, the hushed clatter against the cobbled path, before he fell in front of the shaking brunette.

She looked at him, before her eyes darted to Miranda. Her blue lips trembled and her face was grey and clammy.

"He told me not to scream…I couldn't…I couldn't help…" She trailed off, as her hand clutched a gaping, bloody wound in the centre of her stomach.

He shrugged off his jacket, and pushed it tightly over the wound, the vague sound of Miranda speaking into her cell phone.

Emergency, ambulance, the police.

"It's okay; you're going to be okay sweetheart."

She continued to shake as her eyes began to glaze over; he pushed further down onto the wound, holding the pressure.

Patricia began to growl.

"Its okay girl, I'm not hurting her."

Andy let out a strangle sound, and Patricia nuzzled her shoulder and set next to the brunette, her fur coat against her frozen shoulder.

Stephen looked up."Shit, I'm going to get the Mohan's to move their car, the ambulance won't be able to make their way through."

Miranda nodded and stood next to the vacated space that Stephen had taken, as he ran down the street. Miranda sat close next to the shaking form, holding her hand over the jacket that held down pressure against the blood.

Andrea's blood.

Andy looked up her, "Miranda…I'm cold." Her teeth chattered, as her voice released the sentence that sounded no more than a whimper.

Miranda pursed her lips and shrugged off her cashmere shrug.

"Of course you're cold; it's the middle of winter. And my art director decided to dress you in autumn colours." Her sarcasm shrouded the blinding bile that she fought down that contained searing panic.

Andrea was going into shock.

She put her arms around her assistant and tightened her hold. She could feel the tremulous shaking, and the brunette's body that suddenly began to feel limp.

Miranda tussled her and spoke harshly, the tone biting into the frigid air.

"You're going to be fine."

Andrea continued to shake. The blood was seeping onto grey stone.

_an; tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyes drank in the small looking form on the bed.

Steely eyes hardening at the memory of the young woman who could not even find it within herself to hurt a fly. Had been mercilessly hacked by some … thing. She did not permit herself to allow the words of male or human being to enter the equation.

She had mumbled words of him wanting her purse and shoes. Before the ER team had put her under the haze of Morpheus clouds.

Low vital signs. Blood loss. Irregular heartbeat, were what she had heard before she had entered the car, with Stephen driving behind the ambulance.

One of the safest neighbourhoods in Manhattan. A home she had chosen for precisely one of those reasons. The home where her babies slept. And somebody had poisoned it, infected it, and drowned it Andrea's pure blood.

It had been taken from her, for what? Fifty dollars and some Chanel heels.

Nigel's voice echoed in her head, when she had called him. Not being able to reach Emily and needing Andrea's parent's telephone number. The echoing got progressively louder before she realised he was behind her. Eyes wide with alarm he hadn't managed to temper. His face almost as grey as the young woman laying the bed. And a glistening of tears that the appalling hospital lights reflected in Nigel's eyes.

"How is she?"

Miranda pursed her lips softly, "I do not know. Although we called in what happened, they will not give information out unless it is her next of kin or in case of emergency. They simply said to wait."

Nigel nodded, "I managed to get a hold of Emily, and she was at the theatre with someone. They do not allow their phones on and she didn't think she would be needed tonight."

"So clearly she did not think."

Nigel opened his mouth to speak before he thought better of it. He took in the girl he had come to grow increasingly fond of over the past six months. Like the little sister he never head. He took in the machine that signalled each heartbeat before he broached the subject.

"Was she?...Was…" He trailed of not knowing how to finish the question.

Miranda eyed him briefly, feeling the urge to vomit.

"Once her condition has stabilised I believe they will need to perform a Rape Kit Test."

"Motherfucker." Combined with white hot rage, crashed through Nigel's eyes.

Patterned even steps moved closer to them, before Stephen handed her a Starbucks coffee.

Miranda raised an eyebrow before accepting the beverage. When had he gone to get coffee?

"Nigel?" He proffered another cup to Nigel, who accepted the cup but not moving to drink from it.

Minutes moved by in ominous silence before Nigel spoke again.

"Emily was getting her parents contact information when I spoke to her. She wanted to know because you were there if you wished to speak to them or should she?"

Miranda couldn't answer the question, all she could see was chocolate coloured hair with a face that was covered in hovering grey death.

_an; I would just like to say that Andrea has not been raped, if that was part of the story I would have placed it in the warning._ _Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3

Nigel's feet were tucked underneath the chair, as he watched the solid beeping signal that eased his mind.

Her condition was stabilised and one person at a time could be with her, but not for too long.

_"Your friend was actually incredibly lucky." Nurse Jean spoke softly._

_"You regard that as lucky?" Miranda asked, her arched eyebrow that would induce fear within the halls of Runway didn't even faze the calm nurse._

_"Actually yes. The knife was a clean cut through. It didn't penetrate as deeply as we expected. But the knife penetrated her in a large slash motion which explains the superficial surface wounds, which would cause blood loss from the large area. _

_The best news is though that the knife missed all of her vital organs, that is what I mean when I say it was a clean cut. A centimetre either side and she would have died at the scene._

_And the initial tests we have conducted for infections from a dirty blade are negative. Her heartbeat, blood pressure although a little low, are well within acceptable parameters. Believe me when I say she was lucky. However I will say if you hadn't have applied pressure it would have been a very different story. Had the blood loss have lasted longer, and combined with the below zero temperatures, she might not have survived."_

_The group was stunned into silence. Before the question that gnawed at Nigel was asked._

_"When will she wake up?" He asked._

_"The medication and combination of broad spectrum antibiotics we have given her will make sure she sleeps peacefully through the night, but given her results we expect her to wake up tomorrow or the day after that."_

_"I thought you said there were no infections?" Miranda queried softly._

_Nurse Jean nodded, "This is just to be sure. If there is an infection that hasn't showed up on the initial tests theses antibiotics will preliminary take care of it. We don't want her body going through any more than it already has."_

Nigel exhaled softly at the memory.

They hadn't been spoken to until it was realised that nobody else would be with Andrea. Her parents were on a cruise and couldn't be reached. The two friends he had heard about Doug and Lilly, hadn't been reached either. And Nate's cell phone was turned off. The restaurant where he worked didn't know where he was.

Although she had come to Runway ignorant and naïve and much reminding Nigel of the scene in Bambi were he kept shakily standing and falling over, Nigel never doubted for a moment that Andrea would drop everything to be there for a friend. He was stunned how very few people were in her life, and ones that he didn't think deserved to be. So it was with relent that the Doctor had allowed Nurse Jean to come out to speak to the people who were at the hospital waiting on news of the young brunette.

The police had been and gone after taking Stephen and Miranda's statements. Emily was working overload he knew from home to try and reach family and friends as well as amending Miranda's timetable as it would only be she who would be working as Miranda's assistant for a while. And although one to vault her emotions almost as tightly as Miranda, Emily was clearly in her own way doing what she could that would be beneficial to Andrea.

Nigel looked up at the peculiar pattern on the ceiling, glad for the reprieve of not looking at Stephen and if he were honest Miranda also. Simply for the fact that they were covered in Andreas blood. They had been offered by hospital staff to use one of their private shower rooms, and their clothes were handed in as evidence. There had been a struggle and thus lead to a possibility of the blood being of the assailants also.

_"I um I don't know if you are allowed to tell us but…"Nigel trailed off and looked to Miranda, not being able to say the words out loud._

_Stephens face took on a greenish, sickened hue and Miranda's eyes looked completely devoid of blue. _

_Steel and hard._

_Stephen cleared his throat, "Given the nature of what happened."_

_It wouldn't have been professional to visibly show a smile, but Jeans eyes were gentle and calm._

_"Your friend was not sexually assaulted."_

_Nigel's exhale was louder but it was clear that Stephen was relieved and Miranda looked less pale._

It occurred to Nigel that in that moment, Miranda had been terrified of that notion. All of them had, but her eyes were something that would stay with Nigel until his last breath.

A soft clearing of the throat brought Nigel out of his musings, as he looked up to find Miranda standing in the doorway. If the situation hadn't have been so serious it would have been comical to see his merciless boss in navy blue nurses scrubs.

"I'm going to go home. The girls will be phoning at seven from their fathers, the cellular is useless here. And I do not want them to worry." It was apparent that Miranda was trying to stave off the emotions that Nigel could see in an aura around her.

Nigel nodded, "Stephen?"

"He is talking to one of the detectives. He knows him from the courthouse. He will tell us, what he knows when he is told about …him." She bit out the last words with a fury that breathed fire from behind the ice in her eyes.

…

Miranda closed the door gently, taking little comfort in the steps that had been a crime scene mere hours ago, that had now been cleaned and were devoid of blood.

Emily had worked furiously to make sure; this news did not reach the paparazzi vultures.

She leant against the doorway, a very uncharacteristic pose for Miranda Priestly. But she needed the strength of the doorway to hold her up.

Patricia trotted up to her and whined before nuzzling and licking her hand.

Miranda gave a tired smile and tried to summon the will to walk up the stairs, change into her Bill Blass and go to work.

Before she could however her cell phone began to ring. She flipped open her cell and answered with an irritated, "Yes?"

"They've caught him."

Stephens's words cut her cold.

"What?"

"A few blocks away the police saw a guy holding his knife against some older man's throat, wanting his wallet and his shoes."

Miranda felt her foyer begin to whiz around her.

"Is he?..."

"They thought he was going to kill the guy, he tried to. They shot him. He's in the hospital but he has a hole in his stomach. They don't think he will make it through the next twenty four hours."

All Miranda could think, was that if this … evil wasn't dead, she would be more than happy to find out the number of his hotel room.

"Anyway, I thought I should tell you, he's a loner. So you don't have to worry about the girls coming back to the townhouse or anything."

Miranda felt a tear leave her. A culmination from everything that had happened or Stephens words of comfort about the girls, especially when she knew that their marriage wouldn't last another year.

Or something else, entirely. She didn't wish to examine it too closely.

She just kept remembering those terrified eyes, and the blood that had coated her.

She had been covered in Andrea's blood.

_an; the medical information is a combination from online medical research and an unhealthy obsession with house md, but bear in mind I am not in the profession. Thank you._


	4. Chapter 4

The early hours of the next evening found Miranda twisting in the uncomfortable hospital chair that some committee deemed comfortable for the public, when already going through the turmoil that being at the hospital presents.

Work had been barely bearable, although she would consent that Emily had worked overtime to accomplish what Andrea made seem effortless since she had started to understand and care about her job. She had excelled beyond Emily, however today the redhead had been vaguely useful.

What had happened the last night prior was being kept private. At Runway level, why would Miranda care about something other than her fundamental quest for perfection?

It astonished her that so many hadn't actually noticed the brunette missing. Until she had heard one of the security guards at the front desk ask a colleague.

"Where's the girl who runs like her ass is on fire? The brunette. The one that smiles."

Once in the sanctity of the town car shielded by her signature Chanel glasses, she instructed Roy to drive to Lennox Hill. Ignoring the thumping in her heart that reminded her yet again how close she had been to losing the young woman in the hospital bed.

However on a deeper level, the level that captured her core, the real reason was because, she wanted Andrea to have as much privacy and peace she was allowed. And her emotional wellbeing was of the utmost importance.

She had spoken to the girls that morning and had given nothing away about what had happened. Although on the odd occasion they had sung the brunettes praises she had no intention of trying to explain to her ten year old babies that Andrea had been viciously attacked. She couldn't even explain it to herself.

The only moment that made her think that there was some giving deity was when one of the detectives had called Stephen and told him that the man in question had died. And due to an allergy to morphine he had been in a lot of pain when it had happened.

No way near enough by Miranda's standards but at least when Andrea woke up she wouldn't have to live with the idea that she might be attacked again.

Not that, that would have happened anyway, Miranda would have taken care of it. She had the best lawyers on the West Coast, if not the United States, for a reason.

He would have been sent somewhere where he would never have been allowed to see the light of day.

She watched the heart monitor.

Andrea's eyes fluttered, in sleep. Her vitals had been slowly improving and would awaken within the next few hours.

She sighed and leant back against the seat, feet tucked underneath her. Just watching her heart rate.

She didn't notice the sad eyes that watched her.

…

Miranda sipped from a cup of chamomile tea whilst she reviewed the book, before a set of papers was set directly into her vision.

She looked up into tired, dark eyes.

"What is this?" But somewhere in her heart, she already knew.

Stephen sighed, "Divorce papers."

Miranda frowned, not knowing quite what to say, so she settled for silence.

"We have a pre nup the size of someone who doesn't work at runway. I'm not asking for anything. You just have to sign them."

After months of fighting, public embarrassment and hurt feelings, from someone who had once been a friend she could not understand why all of a sudden. And his description of the pre nup had been the one thing she had fought to contain a grin at. Reminding her of the man she once knew. But she also knew him to be vindictive when he wanted to be. There had to be a catch.

"Why? Why now?"

"Why not now? Can you think of any reason not too?"

She pursed her lips at him, clearly not buying his vagueness.

He answered slowly.

"So you don't feel guilty. About the girls…about any of it."

Her eyes pierced him. Despite being shrouded in a cloud of mistrust.

"Guilty about what?"

He paused and looked deep into her eyes, and spoke. And he was honest.

"Because of the way you looked at her, when you thought she might be dying in your arms. Because of the way you didn't take your eyes of the heartbeat monitor earlier tonight."

He paused before finishing in kindness.

"You don't look at her like an assistant, sweetheart."

She breathed through her nose, trying to stem the tears.

"Stephen..."

"It's okay. I could have done this another way. Demand alimony, drag it all out. But the way you looked at her…I'm sure ten years ago, I looked at Philip the same way, in the safety of a hotel room…whatever." His words were barely audible.

She pursed her lips and allowed herself to shed a tear, for what they had both gone through together.

"I'll have my lawyers look it over tomorrow."

Stephen nodded, before moving to the doorway. He stopped and turned around.

"You know…when stuff like this happens. It makes you realise what counts, what's important. I know you are more afraid then you will ever let yourself admit. But Miranda anything other than knowing you love someone. I'm telling you…it ain't worth it." His eyes hurt from the memory of fear of being known to be homosexual, and then the love of his life had died, of a heart attack.

Miranda nodded, biting her lower lip, tears beginning to fully flow. He nodded back before leaning over and kissing her forehead.

She sat in silence, long after his footsteps disappeared.

_"This stuff?"_

…

She traced her finger along the hand that was covered in plastic tubes. Her eyes began to slowly open. Miranda gently removed her hand, but kept her hand on the hospital sheets.

Andy attempted to open her eyes three times, before she was successful.

"What am I doing in here?" She asked her voice groggy, from the pain medication in her system.

"How do you feel?" Miranda asked, softly.

She frowned.

"Numb. I feel numb. What happened?"

Miranda pursed her lips gently. And kept her words brief and simple.

"You were hurt. But you are going to be fine."

Andy took in her surroundings. Feeling the first bolt of surprise at tired eyes, red and raw. But looking at her so intently.

She leant up slowly, trying to reorient herself.

"How long has it been, just you here?" She asked quietly.

"Your parents are on a cruise. Remember?"

"No."

Miranda smirked.

"You will."

Andy looked at her, her eyes beginning to fill with fear.

"When will you need to leave?"

Miranda frowned at her.

"Why?"

Andy sighed.

"Just wanting to work out when I'm going to have to be alone." She finished, head bent. As a tear trailed down her cheek as she remembered some of what had happened.

Miranda followed the instinct in her gut. That told her.

She leant forward and covered Andreas hand with her own.

"You're not alone."

For the first time, in the months that had passed since she had first wanted to, she gently brushed a lock of Andrea's hair.


End file.
